Chapter 17 – Emma
CHAPTER 17
EMMA
" N athan, that’s not funny.” The controls lurched forward as his hands fell limply into his lap. His body hunched over, and his head bobbed against the window with a sickening thud. “Nathan?!”
The dread rotting in my gut metastasized, spreading through me like a cancer. My breath caught in my throat, and I could feel my heart pounding wildly, almost painfully, against my ribcage. Panic clawed at my insides as I realized the wind whipping through the cabin was due to small holes in Nathan’s door, where blood had begun to pool by his feet.
The sight of his blood made my stomach churn, but I couldn't afford to give in to fear. I wanted nothing more than to help him, to keep him alive with whatever means I could muster, but I couldn’t take my hands off the wheel to help him, or we’d both be dead in seconds.
Wind shook the plane with a horrifying rattle as we gained momentum from losing altitude.
My hands trembled as I gripped the controls tighter, knuckles white with tension. Cold sweat trickled down my back and the queasy sensation of adrenaline flooded my system.
I had to calm down.
I forced myself to take a deep breath, though it felt like inhaling through a straw. Crash landing the plane near Martinique wouldn’t be enough. If I didn’t figure out a way to get him to a hospital and fast, he wasn’t going to walk away this time. I glanced at him, slumped and lifeless, and a wave of fear nearly overwhelmed me.
“Stay calm, Emma,” I whispered to myself, trying to steel my nerves. My hands were slick with sweat, making the controls slippery. I wiped one palm on my jeans and took a firmer grip, pulling back on it until our dive eased into level flight.
“Alpha-three-seven-four-Echo, this is black-eagle. Do you copy?” A man’s scratchy voice came through the noisy radio. “Alpha-three-seven-four-Echo, are you hit?”
“Yes!” I said before I even reached for the radio receiver. Clamoring for the little black speaker, I held the controls as steady as I could with one hand and mashed the button on the side of the radio down with my thumb. “Black eagle this is… Alpha…three– Fuck! I don’t know how to do this. This is Emma Jackson, I’m with Nathan.”
“Good to hear your voice, Emma!” the voice responded. “My name is Salvatore Ferrari, but you can call me Sal. Is Nathan alive?”
“I think so.” I glanced over at him as his head flopped, with his chin against his chest. “But he’s seriously injured. Unconscious. I see a lot of blood.”
“What does the wound look like?”
“I don’t know.” I leaned toward him. “He passed out, and I can’t see his injury without letting go of the controls.”
“Yeah, let’s not do that,” Sal said. "Is there color to him?"
I looked over at Nathan, unsure if he'd be flesh-colored or white as a ghost.
"He's... uh... he's getting pretty white!"
"One sec, Emma"
I waited for further instructions, and it felt like years went by, although I'm certain it was merely moments. I mentally prepared myself for what they were going to help me do. Put your feet on the pedals, Emma. It's like riding a bike, Emma. You're doing fine, Emma.
Sal's voice crackled over the radio.
Finally, let's get this over with.
“What we’re going to do next is board your craft, alright? We need you to keep the plane flying in a steady, straight line so that Smitty can dangle me off a line just behind the wing on your port side. Can you do that?”
"Board the craft!? Are you nuts!"
I looked over at the helicopter. They slid the side door open and I could see a man messing with a line above him and gesturing to the crew with his hands to move closer to me.
"You mean... once we're on the ground, right ?"
"Emma. Nathan's not gonna make if we don't do something quick. We do this all the time. Millions of times actually. Just follow my lead and you'll do fine. The danger's... minimal."
I took a moment to comprehend the change of plans, seeing the positive if at all possible.
I guess I won’t have to land this thing after all?
Nathan's gonna make it.
At least I get to meet his friends?
We're totally not going to die as we strike the sea at a hundred miles an hour... I think?
“Yes! Okay!” I breathed a deep breath and let it out slowly in a feeble attempt to calm myself. My hands shook violently, my attempts at calming myself utterly failing to combat the ever-changing level of stress.
Still, if there was a chance of surviving the day, this is probably it.
My hands steadied from an earthquake to a tremble.
I got this. I got this. I got this.
"The port side?”
“That’s your right side.”
“Okay!” I let out, "Just be careful, he’s unconscious. You’ll have to climb over him.”
“Copy that. Just keep your eyes on the horizon and try to keep that bird level and the same speed. Do you see a dial with your speed?”
I glanced over the dashboard. All the instruments were cracked, broken, or blown to bits, except one showing two bouncing needles labeled "FUEL: Left, Right."
“No, but I'll try!” I put the radio receiver back on its perch and patted Nathan on the knee like he’d done to me earlier. “Don’t worry, Cap, we got this. Nooo problemooo.”
The plane shuddered as the chopper drew close, and it took all my upper body strength to hold the plane steady. I had the hang of up and down, but controlling left and right seemed out of my control. I tried to use the pedals, but all my movements were exaggerated when they needed to be subtle and subtle when they needed more force. Still, all things considered, I was doing a pretty damn fine job of keeping us on an even plane.
After several thuds, whooshes, and vibrations rocking the plane from the helicopter being so close, I got back on the radio.
“What’s going on out there?” I looked toward the port side of the plane, hoping to see Sal. “– Over.”
“There's too much turbulence for what we were going to try!”
I looked toward the chopper and the man with the cable looked grim and focused. Turning back to his team, he brought his hand up to his throat and made a decisive slashing motion. The gesture was clear: it was a no-go.
A voice I didn’t recognize crackled. “We can't get close enough safely. Over.”
“Shit.” I bit my lip, holding my breath and hoping they wouldn’t give up the new plan to get us the hell out of the increasingly rickety remains of a plane.
The helicopter pulled away and with it, my hopes for this ending quickly. After what felt like an eternity, Sal’s voice came through again. “Alright, Emma, you’ll be landing Nathan’s birdie after all. We’ll talk you through the whole thing.”
Fucking hell… I released the breath I’d been holding and licked the salty, metallic taste of blood from my lip where I’d been biting it.
“Are you alright?” He asked after I didn't reply.
“Honestly?” I swallowed hard. “I’ve never been more scared in my life and after the last few days, that’s really saying something.”
“You don’t need to be scared, Emma,” he soothed. “You’ll be landing in the water. It’ll be a…”
“Don't say it! Don't fucking say it! I'm so tired of you people saying things are 'controlled' when they are... anything ... but... 'controlled!' ”
Did I just scold a SEAL?
“Hey?” Sal asked. “Why did the airplane get sent to his room?”
“What?” I wrinkled my nose, unsure if I misheard him.”
“For his bad altitude .” Sal paused. “Get it? All...titude?”
If I survive long enough to meet this guy, I’m going to kick him in the dick. I assumed his cheesy joke was a last-ditch effort to calm me down. And strangely, it kinda did.
“Good one.” My voice cracked as I spotted land in the distance and descended for three seconds, then I pulled back, as slow and controlled as I could, positive that my arms and chest were going to feel like the muscles had been torn to shreds when this was all over. “Hey, I know an airplane joke too.”
“Yeah?” Sal said, a bit of surprise in his tone. “Tell me!”
“How often do planes crash?” My heart raced as I made another three-second descent. “...Just once!”